


The Mistress of the Woods

by Greyveil



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 10:53:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greyveil/pseuds/Greyveil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day after the enconter with the trolls the company falls under attack, again, although not from wargs (a little change to the movie version) but from nature itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mistress of the Woods

**Author's Note:**

> Brief history on Greyveil. Greyveil is an original character who is the daughter of Gandalf the Grey. In reality she is not his flesh and blood daughter, but rather his adoptive daughter, (living for 7,000 years kinda makes you want some company). She is the embodiment of all the woods of middle earth, but she is "born" in Fangorn, where Sauramon comes across her and recognizes she has talent for healing and "nature magic"; talking to animals, summoning the powers of the trees, etc. Gandalf steps in to help with her training and grows attached to her. For convention's sake he "adopts" her and when ever there is a task to be done, she typically accompanies her father. For the journey to save Erebor however, Gandalf thought it wise for the dwarves to witness her in battle or in a form of providing aid, rather then introduce her to the dwarves and have her written off as a burden. In relation to this fanfic one of her "powers" is that she can be in any forest at any given time, for she is the forest. The forest this takes places is the the Trollshaw, according to the map of middle earth. This fanfic is sort of a mix between the book and movie. I hope you enjoy this first segment:) P.S. I am very busy therefore I will be a little slow on updating chapters but I will:) Feel free to leave comments on my first OC and first fan fic:)

They were under attack. The very forest seemed to be attacking them, rock and forest debris were uprooted from the ground, hurtling at them like enraged projectiles while the ground itself heaved and shuddered like a ship at sea. Not to mention the trees. The trees’ branches whipped out like lashes and nine tails, breaking skin and bone alike. In the midst of the melee the company attempted to find cover but there was none. Fili and Kili had been flung about like rag dolls, while they were attempting to cut the branches that swung at them which only made the situation worse. In fact the whole company had been flung about, most with broken bones and lost conciouscess. Thorin was on his back, staring up at the darkening sky, which was beginning to be trimmed with grey, when on the very edge of his vision a shape of a person appeared. There was a loud crack and a yell of some language beyond comprehsion, for it was not in the tongues of dwaves or elves (for it was not a foolish sounding as their language has tendancy to sound like), or orcs (for it was a word, not a coarse grunt). And after the yell came silence, blessed, sweet silence. The ground was still for it no longer rocked and heaved. Thorin attempted to sit up to try and see what the figure was doing. That proved to be harder then he relized for when he lifted his head, his vision began to swim and it promptly darkened. Just as his head fell back, he felt a hand against his neck, steading it as he slipped into unconsciousness. 

••  
When Thorin next awoke it was dark. He had been laid close to a fire that blazed a deep blue, and appeared to have no kindling. Transfixed by the flame he neither heard nor saw the woman approaching.  
"Admiring my handiwork?" jested a voice that sounded like a babbling brook rushing of the roots of a long forgotten tree. At the sound of it Thorin attempted to turn to see the speaker. His neck was not pleased as he did so, causing his face to distort into a grimace that thankfully hid his surprise.  
"You should not be moving about in such a way, Thorin son of Thrain" said the speaker who finally had a body and a face to match it. The woman was tall, like an elf, but built like a strong tree, with arms and shoulders that had been forged from decades? No, centuries of hard work. Her brown hair fell to her waist, free of any plait or rope to hold it back, causing it to fall around her body and face like a frame. She was dressed simply but upon further examination her dress was far more intricate then anything Thorin had seen a woman wear before. It was a Grey dress, whose fabric was formed of links like mail or bark of a tree. It was synched at the waist by a thick brown belt that held daggers made by the elves of Rivendell, small and light enough to be thrown with deadly accuracy but heavy enough to deliver a kill. From the belt, two swords hung, one black as the night surrounding the camp and the other a bright as the face of a full moon, (they could be combined to form a double edged sword). Silently taken aback at this impressive visage before him, when he finally reached her eyes, eyes the color of the deepest emeralds in Erebor, a substantial amount of time had passed before he realized she had addressed him by name while she was a stranger to him.  
"Who are you?" he asked hoping to not come across as perplexed or cliche.  
"Well, I have many titles, many that you would not know, and some that even I do not know", she replied, leaning against a tree across from him, making the blue flame dance upon her face, causing a great many angles of already mysterious to be brought out and hid again and again, "although I do believe the question you are looking for is 'what am I' rather than what the different races decide to call me".  
"If that gets to what you call yourself, then yes what are you?" He jabbed, trying to cut through the layer of mystery this woman held around herself like a second skin. But to no avail for her reply was one of riddles and more dubious mystery,  
"All in due time master dwarf, however to answer your question-or rather my question that I proposed to you-I am the only flesh-kin to the very trees we sit under-for you case, lie under- and the only living kin to a friend you call wizard and a member of your company. I am a companion to those who do not have a voice and the whisper of the forgotten parts of this world. I am a...well you get my point"  
He most certaintly did not for he questioned, "But you are not an Elf? Surely you must be to be so close to the woods and all you speak of?"  
With that remark she laughed, "No, no my dear fellow, I am not an Elf, for I am something entirely different".  
"Then what are you?" he parleyed, before kicking himself, mentally, for he was back where he started. She seemed to know this, for she merely sat and smiled a smile of content and, did he see, dominance?  
"Why the rightful King under the Mountain should surely be able to figure out who I am?". But with that remark, she had hit on a nerve. 'Rightful king' only reminded him of the journey and of all he had lost. It must of shown in some minute way-for Thorin never liked showing that he was hurting or surprised-for her face fell.  
"I know of the treasure you seek," she said, no louder than a whisper, "and of the home you seek to reclaim. I once saw the halls of Erebor, and of the majesty they possessed. In recent times, I have found myself walking in the halls in my sleep, searching for something that has been lost and buried deep in secrets of Smaug's horde". She looked at him, wishing that she had not again hit upon another nerve at the mention of the worm's name, that would cause the dwarf king to retreat into the personna he had forged for himself out of the misery and hardship of exile. When she could not see that there was no outward repulsion she continued, "I am Greyveil daughter of Gandalf, and I will do what I can to help reclaim Erebor".


End file.
